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Post Case Buggery	By : pandapony Category: Titles in the Public Domain > Sherlock Holmes > Slash > Slash Views: 4643 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, not me. No profit is made form this work. No offense is intended. Please do not read if you do not enjoy male/male romance.

Chapter List
- 1-Post Case Buggery
- 1
Title: Post-Case Buggery

Author: Pandapony

Pairing: H/W

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Slash (male/male) sexual content (anal, oral).

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, not me. No profit is made form this work. No offense is intended. Please do not read if you do not enjoy male/male romance.

Warning: Not only is this naughty, it is un-edited. Yikes!

Note: Dedicated to Spacefall for her amazing artwork. This is the Caption for Spacefall’s lovely and naughty Holmes/Watson pic:

http://spacefall.co.uk/lj/hw_holmesftw_s.jpg

(add comments to artist at her LJ post: http://spacefall.livejournal.com/651739.html)

**
I was sound asleep in my bed, my novel bent in half and propped on the pillow beside me, when I was suddenly awoken by a strange tugging on my leg.
I cracked open one eye. Holmes was staring down at me, a little smile on his face. His hands were busy unbuttoning the flies of my undergarments.
“Ah. You’re home then,” said I.
Holmes kissed me. The vigor behind his kiss reminded me of our long week apart.
“Did you solve the case?” I asked.
“Turn over,” Holmes whispered, his voice low and husky.
I yawned and rolled over, and let Holmes pull the night shirt from my body. I could tell by the fervor of his undressing that all had gone well. When Holmes returned from clients he had failed, he was sullen and withdrawn, and sat alone in his bedroom for hours. When he had been exceptionally clever, all Holmes wanted to do was what he was doing now.
By the time I had slipped my arms free of my night shirt, Holmes had stripped himself. He haphazardly flung his undergarments and crawled onto the bed. He was already breathing heavily, his eyes glinting, pupils wide and dark with arousal. His cock stood proudly towards me.
Holmes said nothing as he reached into my bedside table and pulled out a small container of oil. He stroked himself several times, and then threw the jar off the bed.
“I say,” I interjected. “You almost hit my ship—“
Holmes spread me apart and slowly filled me. He did not stop when I gasped, but he continued his gentle, deep penetration. My body was used to his touch, used to the size of him, but even now, after so many times, the feeling still shocked me. To be so absolutely, delightfully full of Holmes was breathtaking. My skin, stretched and sensitive, quivered around him.
I pressed back against him.
“Watson!” Holmes whispered. And then he began to pound into me.
I braced myself, clawing the sheets as he thrust deeper with each stroke. His need was stunning – I could feel how large he was, how desperate he had grown over the week. My own cock dripped and stood at attention, but I didn’t dare give up a hand for support by touching myself.
Holmes cried out, biting my shoulder as he came. I could feel the individual pulses of his long release, and I collapsed underneath him.
Holmes gasped for air. He withdrew slowly, and my body immediately missed his presence. He gently reached down and turned me over to face him. He had a small smile on his face as he bent to kiss my neck.
“Did you have a nice trip back?” I asked him.
He reached down and cupped my testicles. “Mm. I thought the most delightful things about you.”
“I can see that.”
Holmes frowned at the novel, still lying with its broken spine on the pillow beside my head. He clicked his tongue. “Watson, the way you treat your books is honestly quite deplorable.”
I ignored the novel, instead more focused on my still-rigid member. “Holmes, you do recall that you still owe me that handjob from our evening in Windsor, and...”
“I plan to assist you in a moment.” He stroked my shaft gently, but then sat up on one elbow and smiled, joy lighting his face. “You’ll be surprised to learn who murdered the vicar. It was none other than the constable! He was a clever man, Watson, and covered his tracks well. However, I was able to deduce by the singular shoe pattern on the entryway carpet that—“
“Holmes!” I thrust my hips up at him.
He sighed. “Oh all right. You are always in such a hurry.”
I snorted. “Well, at least you remembered to remove your trousers this time.”
Holmes no doubt said something clever, but his words were muffled as he swallowed my aching member down his throat. He was an expert at fellatio, and, in the frenzied state that I was already in, he had me crying for God within mere moments.
The feeling was so exquisite I tried to sit up and stroke his hair, but his right hand pushed me down flat against the bed and he pulled me in deeper, using the muscles deep in his throat. I cried out and climaxed, and he held me within his mouth as I spurt a week’s worth of desire into him.
Holmes licked the tip of me clean, licked his lips, and then scooted up to kiss me. Our kiss was slower this time, softer, more passionate, but his body still vibrated with energy, from the case or the sex, I was uncertain.
I pulled him closer, and he kissed the nape of my neck once more as I wrapped my leg around him to hold him close.
“I was forced, the moment I came upon the evidence on the carpet, to seriously consider the hypothesis that one of the police force whom had been summoned the day before had remained at the scene of the original crime…”
Holmes began his re-telling immediately. I smiled to myself as I listened, loving this moment, post-coitus, when Holmes would try his best to impress me. It was just like Holmes to miss the subtleties of love, to not comprehend that the time to impress a lover was before he had been pounded into the mattress.
These small errors in the expression of his love are perhaps what I adore most about the man.
I stroked his lower back as he recounted his tale, and I listened, trying to determine whether the case was interesting enough to merit publication, savoring the feeling of his wilting member between my thighs, breathing counter to his own breaths, to feel our chests moving together in unison.
I also made a mental note to alert Mrs. Hudson that an extra portion of eggs and sausages would be welcome tomorrow morning. After all, the second best benefit to a successful case was that Holmes’ appetite would return.
The first benefit, of course, was the ravishing.
“…And it was at that moment that I realized the key could not possibly have been used to open the door, when… you are not paying attention to me, are you?” he asked, frowning.
“Of course I am, love. Key. Couldn’t have been used. Go on.”
Holmes stared at me for a moment longer. A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth.
I kissed him there, at the corner of his mouth. He turned his head to capture mine completely, and all narrative ceased.
“Don’t you want to know how it all ended?” Holmes whispered, gasping as I reached down to wake up his member once more.
“You can fill me in later.”
And with that, I finally pushed the novel off my bed and properly welcomed Holmes home.
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Post Case Buggery